Broken Prince: A New Adult Romance Novel by Aubrey Rose Read Free Book Online Page B

liquid disappearing from the glass between her lips. I realized she was waiting for me to leave. I stood up uncertainly from my seat. She stood as well, kissed me on both cheeks in goodbye. Her lips were cold and smelled of alcohol.
    "Goodbye," Mrs. Deveny said. "And good luck. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for." She reached over the kitchen counter for the bottle of wine, and poured herself another glass, almost to the rim.
    "Mrs. Deveny?" A thought had just come into my mind.
    "Yes?" Her nostrils flared impatiently.
    "How do they know he never killed again?"
    "What do you mean?" A frown passed over her face and she shook it off.
    "You said that the murderer didn't kill again. How do they know he wasn't responsible for any other deaths? I mean, surely there have been other unsolved murders since then."
    Mrs. Deveny turned in her stool to look directly at me, and the blankness in her eyes chilled my nerves.
    "When you see the files, you'll understand," she said. "Now if you'll excuse me, I can't answer any more of your questions right now. I'm quite busy."
    "Yes, of course," I said, although I was sure that her business involved only a glass of wine. "Thank you again. Goodbye."
    She said nothing as I left, just watched me leave. I pulled my shoes back on and pressed the elevator button. The doors closed behind me on the elegant living room, and as they closed I heard the television come back on.
    At the bottom of the stairs I thanked the doorman and walked out into the street.
    "What are you here for?"
    I turned around and saw Csilla sitting just behind me, on the edge of the stoop next to the building I had just come out of. A cigarette dangled from her limp fingers and her legs swung against the stoop. She folded the newspaper she was holding and tossed it aside.
    "Hi," I said nervously. "I was just here to see your mom."
    "About what?"
    "About my mother's death," I said, my courage coming back to me. If she wanted to be nosy, I wouldn't stop her. Mark had already told her everything, probably. "How it happened. Your mom was working at the police station when she was murdered. I was just asking her if she knew anything."
    "Was she drunk yet?" Csilla asked.
    "What?"
    Csilla took a drag off of her cigarette and blew it up over my head.
    "My mom," she said. "Was she drunk yet when you went up there?"
    "It's only ten in the morning," I said, avoiding the question.
    "Yeah? So?"
    "She seemed fine," I lied.
    "She's a bitch," Csilla said, looking away.
    I bit my lip to keep from making the snide remark running through my head: Must run in the family, then.
    "Your dad's the Academy director, right?" I asked politely.
    "Yeah. He's worse than her," Csilla said, looking back at me. I held her gaze. If there was someone who knew something about bad fathers, it was me.
    "I'm sorry," I said. "My dad's an asshole, too."
    "What did he do?" she asked.
    "He left me when my mom died," I said.
    "So you were an orphan? Did you live in an orphanage?" Csilla asked. She took another long drag off of her cigarette.
    "I stayed with my grandmother," I said.
    Csilla shook her head.
    "My dad's almost the same. He's never at home. You can't trust guys, anyway. They're all assholes."
    "You can trust Mark." The words slipped off of my tongue, and Csilla swiveled her head toward me.
    "Do you like him?" Her voice hid malice, thinly veiled.
    "He's just a friend," I said carefully. "But he's a good friend. He's loyal. You can trust him."
    "He's alright. Not that cute, but smart." Csilla stretched her head back, her face lit by the sun, her skirt swirling around her crossed legs. She closed her eyes. She could have been on the cover of a fashion magazine. If Mark thought she was anything other than a pretty face with a mean person behind it, he was wrong. I was about to say goodbye when she spoke again.
    "You're fucking Dr. Herceg, right?" she asked.
    I flushed, the blood rising to my face instantly.
    "I—I—"
    “That's okay, I get it. He's